


Congratulations! Maybe...

by ana



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Family, Misunderstanding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-19
Updated: 2012-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-29 19:07:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ana/pseuds/ana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tiny fic scene from around 'Memory' cos someone else got promoted too y'know!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Congratulations! Maybe...

Imperial Residence – Gregor and Laisa’s Betrothal Bash

_I should go up to him. No, he’s busy and he’s not asked for me - he’ll be suspicious.  I should just forget it.  What with Miles’s new leash and Captaincy (I got there first, damn it!) Gregor’s betrothal and all the Illyan craziness, I bet he won’t mention it and what the hell am I going to say to him anyway?  It would be harder than making those proposals and look how they went!  It’s their loss!  I should leave.  I don’t want to bump into Martya again; she’ll just give me more reasons why she’d never marry me.  I thought women liked proposals - I never thought anyone could get this pissed off at one.  I got the message the first two times, Martya!  Oh! He’s coming this way!_

“Ivan.”

Ivan stood up straighter and returned the formal nod; that old cold stomach flutter suddenly reappearing as he looked at Admiral _ _Viceroy Count Aral Vorkosigan, feeling the weight of all those titles in his uncle’s stare_ _._   _Ivan swallowed.  “Sir?”

“I thought you might have messaged me yourself - about your promotion.”

 _Shit. Screwed up, again_.  His mother had mentioned that too, giving him that weary look as she said: _Yes,_ _of course your uncle will know, Ivan, but that’s not that point_.  But after recording twenty messages, Ivan hadn’t sent any of them.  They all sounded…pathetic and Ivan had never sent personal messages to his uncle; he was sure he was the last person his uncle would want to hear from.

Ivan cleared his throat.  “I know how busy you are, sir. I…”

His uncle was looking at him oddly, and Ivan was beginning to think this was a bad idea.  As usual he felt like defending himself, but he wasn’t sure what against.

“Well, I know you’ve worked hard for it, Ivan.  Congratulations.  It was about time.”

“Aral?” A voice broke in, “You’re needed.” And with a nod to Ivan, his uncle was gone.

“Thank you, sir,” Ivan said vaguely to the space where his uncle had been.  “It was about time…” Ivan murmured, echoing his uncle words.  ‘ _It was about time’ - what the hell does that mean?!_   And the more he thought about it, the more he didn’t know.‘ _It was about time…’_

_Did he mean it was about time I got promoted because I deserved it…or that it was about time I worked hard for it?  But I’ve been working hard for this for a long time! I damn well do deserve it! But which did he mean? Which?_

_It was about time…_

“What’s wrong with you?” Martya asked. “You almost look like you’re thinking and using your brain.”

Ivan instinctively stepped back, holding up his hands in defense.  “Martya, I’m sorry I ever proposed to you - happy now?”

“Don’t you _dare_ act the martyr with me Ivan Vorpatril! It was the most backhanded proposal I’d ever heard! You only proposed because Delia turned you down and you’re not really interested in marrying me - you’re not interested in marrying anyone! You don’t even know what it really means, do you?”

“You’ve already said – wait, what do you mean it was the most backhanded proposal you’d ever heard?  How many proposals have you had?”

Martya raised her chin and glared at him. “None of your business!  More than you’ll ever receive, that’s for sure.”

Silence.  “If someone said ‘it was about time,’ to you, what do you think it means?”

Martya gave him an incredulous look.  “What?”

“I’m asking your opinion.”

“I’m not speaking to you!”

“You’re not?  You’re not doing a very job of it.  So what do you think they mean by it?”

Martya growled at him and threw her arms up in the air.  “It’s a stupid question on its own.  What’s the context?”

“That’s…none of your business.”

“Then ask them yourself!  And I’m _still_ not talking to you!” And she stalked off muttering something about men, officers and Barrayar.

Ivan thought about speaking to his uncle.

_I can’t ask him.  I can’t speak to him like that._

_‘It was about time.’ Damn it! Why did he have to add that!  Why couldn’t he have just left it at congratulations?  The one damn time I had something good to tell him! The one damn time!_   _If I ask him about it, he’ll think I’m an idiot!_

_Oh._

_But he thinks that anyway._

_Shit._

_I should have known._

_…I have my answer._

_I need a drink._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Gwynne and Sue for the beta read! x
> 
> I did try to write Aral's PoV through a conversation with Cordelia but it didn't work - it started off in one place and ended up in some innuendo banter about something else! :p


End file.
